The Passion and the Glory

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Well, glory be,’ Jonssen remarked. ‘Where’s your boat?’

  ‘I swam,’ Walt told him, pausing for breath.

  ‘Heck, that was something like four miles.’

  ‘So I had my Mae West.’

  Waite stood above him. ‘I’ve lost my ship,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Walt got to his knees, then stood up.

  ‘You lost my ship, mister.’

  ‘I think it was the Japanese took your ship, sir,’ Walt said evenly.

  Waite sighed. ‘So now we starve to death on this God damned beach.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll starve,’ Walt told him.

  ‘Yeah? You got food?’

  Walt pointed. ‘Those are coconut trees.’

  ‘Sure. You seen how high they are?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ Walt exploded. ‘We’re seamen. Aren’t we?’

  The others looked doubtful, so he went up himself, his weight causing the tree to bend and shake. It was an exhausting business for muscles which were already exhausted, but he refused to allow himself to think about that as he wrapped his legs and arms around the ridged trunk and slowly inched higher and higher. At last he reached the fronds and could hang on with one hand while he twisted the fruit with the other, and dropped them. The men stood beneath to catch them.

  Going down was actually more painful than climbing up, as he descended in a rush which tore his pants. But already O’Shaughnessy had cut into one of the shells with his knife, and was offering it to him.

  ‘Give it to the captain,’ Walt said, and O’Shaughnessy pulled a face before handing it to Waite.

  ‘God damn coconuts,’ Waite commented. ‘I hate coconuts.’ But he drank the milk, and ate the flesh when O’Shaughessy split the shell for him.

  ‘That feels a whole lot better,’ Jonssen said. And lowered his voice. ‘What are we going to do, Walt?’

  Quietly as he had spoken, Waite heard him. ‘Do?’ the captain asked. ‘We are going to find the Japanese on this island, and surrender.’

  ‘Like hell we are,’ Walt said.

  The sailors, scattered around the sand, sat up, looking from one to the other.

  ‘Mister,’ Waite said. ‘You are pushing your luck.’ He rubbed his jaw as if just remembering that Walt had hit him.

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Chief Malone said, ‘we don’t know there are any Japanese on Savo.’

  ‘Of course there are Japs on Savo,’ Waite snapped. ‘There are Japs every God damn place.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Walt said. ‘But they don’t know we are here. And there are Americans all over the place too, sir. On Guadalcanal and in the sound.’

  ‘And how the hell do we get to them?’

  ‘We use the dinghy, when it gets dark. Right now, I suggest we pull it up into the trees, just in case any aircraft comes along.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Malone said. ‘Come along, you guys.’

  The men fell to with a will, supervised by Jonssen, while Waite glowered at them. ‘I am going to have you cashiered, mister,’ he remarked.

  ‘To do that, sir, you have to get us back to our own people,’ Walt pointed out. ‘May I respectfully request that you take command, as you are the captain.’

  Waite made no reply, and Walt busied himself in helping the men conceal the dinghy. Then it was a matter of waiting out the day, in an uneasy silence. ‘We will support you, sir,’ Malone confided. ‘You may count on that.’

  ‘Thank you, chief,’ Walt said.

  Jonssen was clearly less certain of where he should stand, spent most of the day sitting by the captain. But the men, Walt felt, would follow Malone’s lead, if necessary. What would make it necessary? Only if Waite tried to turn them in to the Japanese. And then it might well be too late. The submarine had gone down so quickly there had been no opportunity to arm themselves; possessing only one or two seamen’s knives — he did not even have one of those — there was no way they could offer any effective resistance.

  Supposing there were Japanese on the island. There was no sign of any activity, on Savo, although there was enough around them. From Guadalcanal there came repeated bursts of firing, to suggest that the Japanese were attempting a counter attack, and there was also continuous firing from Tulagi to the east as well as a good deal of airplane activity above them. But the planes seemed all Japanese, and there were no ships to be seen north of the island; after another meal of coconuts Walt and Malone undertook a reconnaissance to the south side. This was a hard slog through more than two miles of the thickest bush Walt had ever experienced, but they reached the beach again to gaze in consternation at the sight which met their eyes. To the south, in the shallows off Guadalcanal, there was the shattered wreck of a heavy cruiser. Another wreck could be made out close to Florida Island … but there were no other ships to be seen. The proud, and large, armada which had conveyed the marines to their assault had utterly disappeared.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ Malone said. ‘If they’ve evacuated … ’

  ‘They haven’t,’ Walt snapped. ‘Or there wouldn’t be firing on Guadalcanal. They’ve just withdrawn the transports, that’s all. It can only be temporary. But we won’t tell the others, Chief. Let’s link up with the marines first.’

  *

  It was late afternoon by the time they returned, having ascertained that there were no enemy troops on Savo. ‘So we can move fairly easily,’ Walt told them. ‘But there certainly are Japanese in the north end of Guadalcanal, and we don’t know how far south their position extends. So we’re going to have to make for the south of the island, where we know the marines are entrenched.’

  ‘We could make for the ships,’ Jonssen suggested. ‘That’d be better.’

  Malone and Walt exchanged glances. ‘Just let’s head south, to begin with,’ Walt said. ‘If you agree, sir.’ He turned to Waite.

  ‘The whole God damned idea is crazy,’ Waite said. ‘You are going to drown, every last one of you. Or be shot up by the Japs.’

  ‘Does that mean you aren’t coming with us, sir?’ Walt asked.

  Waite looked over the faces. But he wasn’t going to stay on Savo all by himself. ‘Oh, I’m coming with you, mister,’ he said. ‘You’re under arrest.’

  *

  Walt realised he would have to take full command, and so, as the sun was now setting, he had the men carry the inflatable round the beach. It was a walk of several miles, but was easier and safer than attempting to navigate the reefs and shoals which surrounded the island. The dinghy was no weight, and they proceeded cheerfully enough, but were soon attacked by swarms of sandflies and mosquitoes as well as stumbling in and out of unsuspected gullies and rockpools.

  Walt led the way, with Malone; Waite and Jonssen brought up the rear — Jonssen seemed to have chosen his side. But Walt refused to consider the implications of that, or of the disappearance of the support fleet; he was concerned only with saving what remained of Tecumsah’s crew. If he could.

  It was well dark by the time they reached the south side of the island, and it was impossible to see down the sound. Nor did anyone comment at the absence of lights to the south; obviously the transport squadron, even if it had still been there, would have been observing a total black out. The night was quiet too, with only an occasional shot coming from Guadalcanal. But that was reassuring. The marines had to be still there.

  They launched the dinghy, and clambered in, nine men huddled together in a craft intended for six.

  ‘Won’t they hear our paddles?’ Jonssen asked.

  ‘Not until we close the shore again,’ Walt assured him. ‘And we don’t have any choice.’

  The noise of the paddles entering the water in fact sounded inordinately loud, but he was confident the splashes wouldn’t travel all that far, although to begin with he steered as due south east as he could, using the stars, and keeping the darker bulk of Guadalcanal wide on his starboard beam. Waite made no comment on his course or on anything else, for which Walt was thankful.

  He star
ed at the island as they made their way south, thought from time to time he saw the gleam of a light. As he remembered the map, the island sloped in a generally south easterly direction from Cape Esperance, into a shallow bay which ended in a pimple of a headland, Point Lunga. Immediately east of Lunga was where the marines had landed, as close to the airstrip as they could. Steering south east as he was, he could expect the land on Lunga to come out to meet him, and as they proceeded on their way, after a paddle of nearly ten miles, he was sure he did see trees directly ahead.

  ‘Stop paddling,’ he commanded, and the inflatable drifted silently through the still water.

  ‘I hear voices,’ Malone whispered. ‘There are guys on the beach.’

  ‘Do we hail them, sir?’ Aitken asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Walt said, listening as hard as he could. The voices sounded rather high to him, although he could make out nothing that was being said. The dinghy continued to drift nearer the land, the men waiting for the order to resume paddling; they were all taken by surprise when Waite suddenly shouted, ‘Don’t shoot! We are American sailors.’

  ‘That’s done it,’ Walt groaned. ‘Paddle like hell.’

  The blades dug into the water and the dinghy surged forward, just in time. From the shore there came a sheet of flame and a moment later the rattle of a machine gun.

  ‘Don’t shoot, for God’s sake,’ Waite shrieked. ‘We are unarmed sailors.’

  ‘Either shut him up or throw him overboard,’ Walt barked at Jonssen.

  But the second shout had enabled the Japanese more accurately to determine their position, and now the water around them flailed with bullets. One of the seamen groaned, and the air escaped the punctured pontoons with a loud hiss.

  ‘Swim round the headland,’ Walt gasped, as he went in. But at least one more man was hit before the Japanese ceased firing to listen. ‘Breast strokes,’ Walt whispered, having got his breath back. ‘Don’t splash.’

  ‘Murderers!’ Waite screamed. ‘We are unarmed.’

  He was close enough for Walt to reach him, and now he punched him for the second time in forty eight hours. The captain gave a grunt and sagged in the water, and Walt caught him under the arms, turned them both on their backs, and began to make for the shore, using his feet only.

  By now the firing had become general, as the marines replied to the Japanese, and the people on the beach had more important things to do than fire out to sea. Walt was able to look around him at his men, swimming to either side of him. ‘Roll call,’ he panted; Waite was becoming heavy.

  The men answered, but only five of them. Waite was unconscious, so two must have drowned. Unnecessarily, he thought bitterly.

  It took the survivors more than an hour to round the point, by which time the firing had died down again. The marines had been alerted that something was happening on the sea, however, and as the sailors splashed into the shallows they were challenged. ‘Identify yourselves!’

  ‘Commander Waite, officers and men from USS Tecumsah,’ Walt replied carrying the captain up the beach. He had an idea Waite had recovered consciousness some time ago, although he had not revealed it.

  ‘Make it snappy,’ the marine sentry said. ‘Sir.’

  Walt and his men staggered up the sand and into the trees. ‘Boy, are we glad to see you,’ Malone told the marine sergeant, peering at the steel helmets with which they were surrounded.

  ‘That won’t last long,’ the sergeant said. ‘Come with me, sir,’ he told Walt.

  ‘You’ll address me, soldier,’ Waite said, suddenly coming to life and standing up.

  The sergeant peered in turn at the bedraggled uniform. But he could make out the thick stripes. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

  ‘I want to see your commanding officer, immediately,’ Waite said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the marine agreed. ‘If you’ll follow me, sir.’ He set off through the bush, feet squelching in the swampy ground, and the sailors walked behind him. Waite was in front now, ignoring the men at his back. The rest of the marines returned to their fox holes in the sand.

  ‘I thought you guys had walloped the Japs out of here,’ Malone remarked.

  ‘We thought we had too,’ the marine said.

  They reached an encampment, and were introduced to Captain Albertson. ‘Where the hell have you people come from?’ Albertson demanded.

  ‘North of Savo,’ Waite informed him. Since reaching the American-held shore he had completely regained his confidence.

  ‘Holy cow! That must’ve been some swim.’ He signalled his staff, and hot coffee was immediately produced, and gratefully drunk.

  ‘We had an inflatable until the Japs shot it out from under us,’ Waite told him. ‘Now, Captain, my men and I require transportation to the fleet just as quickly as it can be arranged.’

  ‘What fleet?’ Albertson asked.

  ‘That fleet.’ Waite pointed out at the darkness of the sea.

  ‘Commander,’ Albertson said, ‘there ain’t nothing there, save wrecks and corpses. You didn’t see what happened last night?’

  ‘We were in the action,’ Waite told him.

  ‘Yeah, and they got you too. Well, they sank four heavy cruisers as well. All we had in here. The fleet, and the transports, have been withdrawn.’

  ‘But … what about your people?’

  ‘We’re here, and we stay here, until we can be supported. Don’t worry, Commander, we can use another six men. We have enough rifles to go round.’

  ‘Great Jesus Christ!’ Malone commented.

  ‘Very good, Captain,’ Waite agreed. ‘My men are perfectly willing to assist you until we can be returned to the Navy. But first of all, I wish that man … ’ he pointed at Walt, ‘placed under arrest.’

  Albertson raised his eyebrows. ‘You serious? On what charge?’

  ‘Insubordination, striking a superior officer, and mutiny.’

  ‘Holy Cow,’ the captain remarked again. ‘You guys had better go along and see the colonel.’

  *

  ‘Come in, Lew.’ Vice Admiral Fletcher was a perky little man with bright, alert eyes. Now he looked unusually sombre, as well he might in his present circumstances, Lewis McGann thought; all the exhilaration of Midway had dissipated in the disaster off Savo Island — people were asking if Midway had not been, after all, just a colossal stroke of luck.

  ‘Sit down,’ Fletcher invited, and Lewis sank into the chair in front of the admiral’s desk. Enterprise was hove to, surrounded by the other two carriers under Fletcher’s command, Saratoga and Wasp, as well as the two battleships and the cruisers and destroyers — Lew had crossed from Florida in his captain’s launch. ‘Pretty damned grim,’ Fletcher commented.

  ‘When do we go in and take those fellows on again?’ Lew asked.

  ‘When it’s worth our while to do so. You know as well as I do that the Japs would just love to get us back in those narrow waters. But they’ll come to retake Guadalcanal. They have to. That’ll give us something to hit.’

  ‘Supposing they need a fleet to re-take Guadalcanal. Can the marines hold it, without support?’

  ‘They will, because they have to. As soon as they get Hendersen Field — that’s what they’ve named the airstrip — into commission we can start flying in supplies. And men. The Japs’ll want to do something about that. You’ll get another crack at them, Lew. But … ’ he fidgeted with the pens on his desk. ‘That isn’t what I called you over to discuss.’

  Lew waited.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s confirmed that Tecumsah was also lost, north of Savo Island.’

  ‘Damn,’ Lew said. ‘Oh, damn.’ He sighed. ‘Do you know that’s number three. I only have three. Had,’ he added.

  Fletcher shook his head. ‘It’s not as bad as that, Lew. The report of her sinking came from Guadalcanal itself. Because seven survivors reached the marines, after quite an epic.’ Lew’s heart started to pound. ‘Walt?’

  ‘Is one of them.’

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ His head bowed
, because there had been a start of tears to his eyes.

  Fletcher waited to let his friend recover. Then he said, ‘They’ll be flown out the moment the airstrip is functional. But it’s not all good news, I’m afraid, Lew.’

  Lew raised his head again. ‘He’s wounded?’

  ‘Not according to my information. But he’s under arrest.’

  ‘Arrest? Walt? Charged with what?’

  Fletcher sighed. ‘Mutiny. And striking his superior officer, Lew. In time of war. In fact, during an engagement with the enemy. Lew … if that charge is proven … ’

  ‘Yes,’ Lew said, grimly. ‘When?’

  ‘I told you, as soon as we can get them off. Whenever Henderson Field is available.’

  ‘You’ll have no objection if I handle the defence?’

  ‘It’s irregular, for a captain to defend a lieutenant.’

  ‘He happens to be my son.’

  ‘Yes. So you have permission. But I recommend you employ a legal brain as well. Lew … I think I can say that this Navy respects the name of McGann more than any other, and I hope you understand that goes for me too. But Lew … this has to be by the book.’

  ‘I understand,’ Lew said. ‘It will be by the book, sir. And thank you.’

  ‘Let’s wait until you have something to thank me for,’ Fletcher said, and held out his hand.

  *

  ‘The question before this court,’ said the prosecuting officer, Commander Burnside, ‘is whether or not, on the night of 8 August last, in an action with the Japanese fleet north of Savo, Lieutenant Walter McGann attempted forcibly and unlawfully to take command of USS Tecumsah.’

  The wardroom of USS Saratoga was crowded, and hushed. A large number of officers were attending the court-martial, at least partly to see these early survivors of the battle which was being waged in forest and swamp in Guadalcanal, as the Japanese nightly landed men and material in the north, and the Americans attempted to do so in the south — the hoped for clash of the fleets had not yet occurred as the Japanese were using mainly destroyers and fast transports, which were difficult to catch. But with Henderson Field now fully operational, the marines were slowly winning their battle.